


Kiss it Better

by dokidave



Category: South Park
Genre: Crying, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-19
Updated: 2012-03-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 02:18:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14966999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dokidave/pseuds/dokidave
Summary: Clyde laughs. Clyde actually laughs for the first time that day.





	Kiss it Better

Clyde paces his room and tries to busy himself with mindless cleaning. He keeps picking up stray clothing or repositioning knickknacks or flattening his blankets or anything to keep his mind busy. He needs to keep his mind off of what today is.

Today…

Today is the tenth anniversary of Clyde's mother's death, and Clyde isn't sure if he's going to make it through the day alive.

It was his fault. It was all his fault. His mom died because of him. She died because of his mistake.

She'd told him time and time again not to leave the toilet seat up, but did he listen? Of course not. Because what 10 year old boy actually listens to his mother when she tells him to do something? Especially when she's yelling at him in front of his goddamned friends.

So now she's dead. She's dead, and it's all Clyde's fault. Her blood is on him. He's the cause. It's because of him-

Clyde's phone vibrating on his desk distracts him from his pacing. He untangles his fingers from his hair, which he hadn't noticed he'd been pulling, and snatches his phone in his fist. The screen reads: "1 new message; Craig Fucker."

Clyde opens the message, curious as to why Craig is even awake before two o'clock in the afternoon. The message is a simple: "Can I come chill today? I'm bored out of my fucking skull."

Clyde bites his lip to hide a smile. He knows damn well that Craig isn't bored and he also knows that Craig isn't the type to be the one asking to hang out. He quickly types out a reply: "Sure thing. (: After 3 bcuz I got things to do."

'Things to do.' Those things being visiting his mother's grave site and trying not to cry himself dry. Clyde has promised himself that he's not going to cry today. It's been ten years; he shouldn't be crying anymore.

"Whatever," is Craig's only response, and Clyde knows that the conversation ends there. He sighs and sets the phone back on his desk. He glances at his alarm clock and notices that it's nearly one o'clock. He sighs again and runs a shaky hand through his hair. Time to take a shower. This is going to be a long day.

He takes his time in the shower. He lets the boiling water beat over his tense muscles in a sad attempt to get them to relax. After a few long, long minutes, he realizes that relaxing is hopeless and just shuts off the water.

He slumps himself out of the shower and actually blows his hair dry for once. Normally, he would just leave it go, but today he has to look nice, so he takes the blow drier and a hair brush and sets to work. Just like his mom taught him to do when he was young and needed to look presentable for church.

Clyde doesn't go to church anymore, actually. He'd stopped going when he'd moved out of his dad's house and into his own apartment.

He drifts back to his room in a slight haze. Life becomes a blur as he gets himself suited up. He almost isn't even sure how he got there when he finds himself at the cemetery gates. His dad's and sister's cars are parked close and he sighs for the umpteenth time before trudging toward the back, where Betsy's grave lies.

Clyde meets up with his dad, sister, brother-in-law, and nephew at Betsy's burial site. Clyde smiles warmly at all of them and gives them each a tight hug. They exchange light greetings, but remain silent for the most part. They all just stare sadly at Betsy's name and join in a mutual silent respect for her.

Clyde snaps his fingers and remembers what he's brought with him. He reaches in his pocket and pulls out a piece of slightly crumpled paper. It's a note. He'd written it this morning when he was feeling extra emotional and now he feels kind of lame for bringing it with him. Despite his uncomfortableness, he sets the note amongst the many flowers across her grave and straightens back out after whispering a "Love you, mom," to the stone in the ground.

They stand around long enough to actually grow tired and sit on the ground. They eventually start into conversation and enjoy being in each other's company for a while. It feels good, decides Clyde, to be together with the family like this, especially with his mom there. He feels like she's watching over them as they sit there, and it makes him feel marginally better about his day.

After some good catching up, the family finally parts ways with hugs and kisses all around. Clyde checks his phone as he begins his walk home and his eyes widen when he realizes that it's almost four. He'd told Craig he could come over at three! Clyde hurries home and is relieved to find that Craig is not there.

He lets himself inside and starts a pot of coffee. He strips his suit and instead puts on a comfy pair of sweats and a t-shirt. It's not like he needs to look good for Craig or something, right? He gets his cup of coffee and settles into his couch.

He lays his head on a throw pillow and checks his phone again. Still no message from Craig. Clyde yawns, setting his cup on the coffee table, and closes his eyes. Craig wouldn't mind if Clyde took a nap before he got there. Knowing Craig, he'd probably just let himself in anyways. Craig had learned lock-picking from Kenny a while back and Craig used this skill full well to his advantage at all times. Clyde doesn't even think Craig has a key to his own apartment anymore. Okay, that's an exaggeration, but still.

Clyde keeps his phone in his hand as he drifts off to sleep. Then if Craig calls, Clyde will wake up. Clyde hadn't gotten much sleep the night before, so he was well in need of a nice power nap. He checks the time one last time and notes that it about four thirty. He should get at least a little sleep before Craig shows up.

Clyde wakes with a start at the sound of a banging on his door. He rubs at his eyes and glances around the room, momentarily confused before he hears the banging again. Right. Craig. Clyde stands and stretches, scratching the back of his neck. He checks the time on his way to his front door and is shocked to see that it's almost ten o'clock at night. He also sees two missed calls from Craig on his cell phone. Shit.

Clyde swings open his door and immediately begins to apologize for not answering his phone. Craig, apparently, doesn't care though and merely pushes past Clyde and into the apartment. He doesn't even apologize for being so late.

Clyde moves to embrace Craig in a greeting, which Craig surprisingly allows without resistance. Craig holds up his hands and in them are a square plastic DVD case and a little plastic baggie. "Wanna get high and watch The Jungle Book with me?" Craig asks, an eyebrow raised in question.

Clyde laughs. Clyde actually laughs for the first time that day. "It took you seven hours to get here for a movie and some weed?" he asks, highly amused. Craig just rolls his eyes and begins to dig through one of Clyde's kitchen drawers for a glass pipe and a grinder. A peculiar scent hits Clyde's nose and he scrunches it up. "What's that awful smell?"

Craig's shoulders tighten a little bit, but he shrugs it off. "Beats me," he says, coming up with what he'd been looking for.

Clyde sniffs the air again and draws closer to Craig. He sniffs at Craig and scrunches his nose again. "You smell like burned ass. Did you house catch fire today or something?" Clyde asks, genuine concern in his voice.

Craig scoffs at that. "Of course not, dipshit. Do you think I'd be here right now if my house burned down? No," he says as he places the weed in the grinder and sets to work.

"Then why do you smell burnt?" Clyde presses.

"I don't," Craig insists.

"You do," Clyde insists right back, taking another whiff of Craig's chard scent.

Craig slams the equipment on the table and throws his arms up in defeat. "Ugh, fuck! Fine! I smell burnt!" he says, pinching the bridge of his nose in a concentrated effort not to be pissed off.

"Why?" Clyde asks, being the nosey little prick that he is.

Craig gives Clyde a long, hard stare before sighing and giving in. "Fuck, um…" he mutters, trying to find the words. "I was sort of, kind of trying to, uh… You know what? Fuck you, Clyde; I was trying to make your mom's fucking lemon bars but I burned them because I'm a fuckhead when it comes to cooking. I tried three fucking times before giving up and trying the tacos instead. When that fucked up too, I got pissed off. So in a half-assed attempt to make it better, I pirated you a copy of The Jungle Book because it's your favorite and bought some Kush to take the edge off for us; because at this point, I need it as much as you do. You happy now?" he asks, now glaring at Clyde for making him talk so much.

Clyde is grinning like an idiot at the thought that Craig put so much effort into making him happy today. Craig just rolls his eyes and goes back to packing the bowl. He packs that motherfucker high, too. While Craig does that, Clyde goes to his room to fetch the comforter and throws it on the couch.

They put the movie in, turn off the lights, and settle into the couch, a little less than comfortable. Craig had shoved himself all the way over to one end of the couch, and Clyde isn't sure if he's allowed to get closer or not, so he sits awkwardly on the other end while the movie starts playing.

Craig takes the first hit from the bowl and sighs happily as he exhales. He turns to Clyde and raises an eyebrow. "How do you expect me to pass you the bowl if you're way over there?" he asks.

"I'm not that far-" Clyde starts, but stops at the look Craig is giving him. Clyde grins and scoots closer to Craig, pulling the warm comforter around the both of them. He takes the bowl from Craig and lights it. He takes that first drag and instantly he feels more relaxed than he has in ages. That is some high quality shit, they're smoking.

As the movie plays on, Clyde finds himself with his head laying comfortably on Craig's chest. Craig had turned so that he was laying back on the armrest of the couch and Clyde is all but on top of him. It's not like either of them care how gay it looks; they've done gayer things. Besides, who's going to see them? So it's fine.

Fine, that is, until Clyde starts to tear up. This part in the movie gets to him every time, even though he knows what's going to happen. Clyde sees Baloo laying there on the dirt and Mowgli getting all starry-eyed, and he just can't take it. When Bagheera starts giving his speech on how good a man Baloo was, Clyde finally breaks.

Craig rolls his eyes when he feels Clyde's nose bury in his sternum and feels Clyde's tears begin to stain his shirt. "You know Baloo's not dead, Clyde; come the fuck on," he deadpans. When Clyde doesn't stop crying, even after Baloo is standing, Craig turns his attention on him. "Clyde?" he asks, uncertain.

"She's dead, Craig…" Clyde mumbles into the fabric of Craig's shirt. Clyde clutches at the shirt beneath him and acts like it's his own personal tissue. "She's dead…" he says again, quieter.

Normally, Craig would be more than peeved at Clyde for ruining his shirt, but this is one of those rare exceptions where Clyde's feelings are actually more important. Craig brings a hand up and pets Clyde's hair back as he whispers, "I know, Clyde, I know… Erm… You'll be okay."

Clyde looks up at this, eyes full of water and getting a little puffy. It's not like Craig to comfort him like this, so Clyde has to see it with his own eyes.

The look Clyde is giving Craig is so desperately sad that it makes Craig's heart want to break in two pieces. And that's saying a lot, because Clyde gives him a lot of pathetic looks. "It's okay, I promise," he reassures again. And for good measure, he pulls Clyde up and presses a small kiss to his forehead, petting his hair some more.

Clyde is unsurprisingly shocked by this display of affection and merely sits there for a moment, stunned. Did Craig just kiss him on the forehead? In an affectionate manner? Clyde's tear ducts seem to have dried up all together by the queerness (no pun intended) of it all.

Not quite thinking clearly, and a little too excited for his own good, Clyde leans back up to Craig's face and places a hesitant kiss on his lips.

Craig doesn't move at first. In fact, he doesn't even breathe until Clyde disconnects their mouths. They stare into each other's eyes for an almost awkward, almost intense moment before Clyde leans in for another kiss.

This time, Craig brings his hands up to cup Clyde's jaw and holds their kiss steady. Clyde worms his arms around Craig's neck and pulls them even closer together. Their lips are pressed hard together, and neither one of them is quite sure what's happening, but they don't really care either. This was bound to happen eventually anyways; they've been best friends for nearly two decades. They're both still buzzed anyways, so all that matters is that it feels good.

Clyde shifts so that his body hovers over Craig's, instead of laying on him. Their legs sit every other, and Clyde's knees feel a little weak with the weight he's putting on them. Clyde almost can't believe what's happening, especially when he feels Craig's tongue press against his lips. It makes Clyde's knees go even weaker when he lets Craig inside.

Things escalate quickly as their body temperatures rise. It's all tongues and hands and a lack of steady breathing. Clyde presses his knee into Craig's groin and Craig hisses. "I wouldn't do that, Clyde," he warns.

"Why not?" Clyde asks, now rubbing his knee against Craig in a torturously slow way. He smirks with self satisfaction at the pained expression on Craig's face. He never has any power over Craig, ever, so this might be fun.

"Because…" Craig starts. "Because it's one thing to make out on your couch, okay? And another thing entirely to start doing… that."

"So what's wrong with this?" Clyde asks, punctuating how little he cares for Craig's warning by rubbing a little harder.

Craig gives Clyde a pointed look and a half of a smirk. "Because unless you're looking to get fucked today, you'd better stop touching my dick."

Clyde actually pauses for a moment, thinking about it. The marijuana that lingers in his system makes his brain a little fuzzy. He feels happy. He thinks it might not be such a bad thing to let Craig fuck him, even if he has no idea what it would feel like. It's just anal sex, right? Lots of people do it, so it must feel good. "Okay," Clyde says, ducking down for another kiss.

Craig raises a half-shocked eyebrow but allows Clyde to kiss him again. Things just got a lot more exciting, Craig thinks. He lifts his hips and rolls them against Clyde's. Clyde gasps as a deeper noise gets caught in his throat. He pushes his hips back against Craig's and they start a slow grinding rhythm.

Craig slides his hands under Clyde's shirt and lifts it up over his head, tossing it of the ground beside them. Over the years, Clyde lost his baby fat but never quite paid attention to himself enough to get fit, so he got a little thinner but stayed soft. Craig smoothes his hands all along Clyde's chest as their bodies move together.

It doesn't take Craig long for one of his wandering hands to end up inside Clyde's sweats. Craig snickers and says, "You're not wearing underwear?" Clyde doesn't respond and buries his face in Craig's neck. He nuzzles his nose along Craig's throat column, but doesn't do anything else. Years of the two of them sharing sex stories tells Clyde that Craig completely melts when someone bites his neck; so, naturally, Clyde doesn't bite him. He only teases.

He also twirls his fingers through Craig's hair because he knows Craig loves his hair pulled. He never doesn't tighten his grip though, so as not to give Craig the complete satisfaction. Now that Clyde thinks about it, he knows a lot of Craig's weird kinks. And he plans to exploit as many of them as possible.

Craig's hand tightens around Clyde's shaft in his own frustration. "God damnit, Clyde! Are you going to bite me or not?" Craig hisses. Clyde chuckles and drags his tongue along Craig's neck, but still doesn't bite down. "Don't forget I've got your dick in my hand; I can yank it off if I want to," Craig warns, voice low. At that Clyde concedes, if only because he feels bad for torturing his best friend.

Craig's back arches off the sofa as Clyde's teeth sink into his throat. He makes an "Mmm…" noise and clutches the back of Clyde's head with his free hand. Several bites later, Craig needs a change in pace so he doesn't lose it. He removes his hand from Clyde's pants and pushes back on Clyde's chest. He flips them around so that he's the one on top of Clyde.

He kisses all around on Clyde's exposed skin, relishing in the heat that radiates off it. He takes Clyde's hips in his hands and grinds into them. Clyde wraps his arms around Craig's neck and pulls him in for another kiss.

Craig makes quick work of Clyde's pants and deposits them near the fallen shirt. He kisses sown Clyde's body again, this time with a destination in mind. Clyde doesn't even have time to think about what's happening before it happens. Suddenly Craig's mouth is on his dick, and he couldn't be happier.

Clyde doesn't think about the fact that Craig is just about as good at this as any girl he's ever slept with. All he thinks about is how good it feels and how much he's needed this after the day he's had. He weaves his hands into Craig hair and tugs on it. Craig gives an appreciative moan and the vibrations send Clyde wild, so he continues to tug on Craig's hair.

When Craig actually takes Clyde down his throat, it's about all Clyde can handle. He cries a fair warning and Craig pulls away just in time to not take it to the face.

Craig wipes his mouth with his hand to get rid of any excess saliva. He smirks down at Clyde and watches him breathe heavily for a few seconds before asking, "Condom?" Clyde merely points and Craig's eyes follow, finding the side table. "You keep condoms in your side table? How scandalous," he says sarcastically, retrieving one of the said condoms. He also finds a small bottle of lube and thanks whatever God that loves him that he won't have to improvise.

He pops the top on the bottle when Clyde catches his hand with a, "Wait!" Craig turns his attention to Clyde's face with an annoyed quirk of his brow.

"You're not pussying out on me now, are you? Because I'll kick your ass if you leave me like this," Craig says, motioning with his hand to how hard his dick is.

Clyde shakes his head, which sparks Craig's interest. "No, I want to…" he starts.

"You want to what?" Craig asks.

Clyde bites his lip in hesitation, thinking it over in his head. "I want to try…" he trails off as his eyes wander downward.

A smirk spreads its way across Craig's face and he sniggers a bit. "You want to suck my dick, Clyde?" he asks, voice smooth as he leans down toward Clyde in mock intimidation.

Clyde's face heats up, but he nods. He's never done it before, but it can't be that hard, right? And this is Craig, so who better to try his fist blow job on than his best friend? Granted, Craig is a giant asshole, but Clyde knows he can trust him.

Craig leans back onto the other side of the couch and looks to Clyde expectantly with an amused leer. Clyde rolls his eyes and decides that this isn't going to be that big of a deal so he should stop worrying about it. Determined, he undoes Craig's jeans and pulls them down just enough to let Craig's erection pop free. "By the way, you might want to hold me down unless you're looking to get skull fucked," Craig says, about half serious through his chuckle.

Craig's words are nearly lost on Clyde, though. Face to face with Craig's dick, it all becomes a lot more real to Clyde. He's really fooling around on his couch with his best friend. He's really about to suck someone's cock. He's really about to have sex with Craig. Epiphany aside, Clyde now has a decision to make. He stares at the object of his dilemma and then looks up to Craig's face.

Craig's face practically make's Clyde's decision for him. His cheeks are heated to a light pink, his eyes are completely clouded over, and his hair is sticking to his forehead with sweat. Upon closer inspection, Clyde also notices the definition of veins in Craig's arms, full of adrenaline. How could he not follow trough? "Well?" Craig asks.

The husky undertone in Craig's voice is what finally pushes Clyde into action. He takes Craig's base in his hand and his head between his lips. He strokes slowly with his hand and gives a few experimental flicks of his tongue. "That's it, Clyde," Craig nearly whispers, stroking his hand in Clyde's hair. The encouraging words set Clyde of with more confidence.

Vaguely remembering Craig's warning, Clyde presses down on Craig's hips with his hands to keep him from moving. He sets to work, trying to learn what's okay and what Craig likes through Craig's reactions. Clyde isn't a very good learner, but he figures he's doing good when Craig warns him he's going to come. Clyde pulls away and finishes Craig off with a few strokes with his hand.

Clyde deems himself a success when Craig pulls him down for a hard kiss. It's hungry and pushy seems to scream Okay, can we finally fuck now?

Craig pushes Clyde onto his hack again searches for the forgotten lube and condom. "You know," Clyde starts. "You really seem to know what you're doing here."

"Shut up, Clyde," Craig warns.

Clyde sports a shit eating grin when he realizes that he's on to something. "Yeah, you've been hanging around Kenny McCormick a lot lately; he wouldn't have anything to do with that, would he?" he asks.

"Shut up, Clyde," Craig warns again, this time with a harder conviction. He'd found the lube and is in the process of slicking his fingers.

Clyde gasps in mock terror. "Oh my God! You two have been fucking, haven't you?" Clyde whispers dramatically.

Craig glares at Clyde and pushes Clyde's legs apart. "I'm not going to warn you again," he says, pushing a first finger into Clyde. Clyde shuts up at that, his nose scrunching up with discomfort. It's not painful, just extremely, extremely uncomfortable. "Relax. It'll feel so much better if you just trust me and relax," Craig advises. Clyde just nods and tries to do what Craig says.

A crook of a finger later and Clyde completely understands why he wants this. Soon he's asking for more and scrambling for his bearings. By the time Craig's finished preparing him, Clyde is already rock hard again.

Things aren't happening fast enough as Craig slides on the condom and lubes himself up. Time slows down again, though, once Craig has pushed inside. Clyde is in pain. A lot of pain. His eyes swell with tears and he tries not to let them fall, but it's useless.

Craig, in another shocking display of affection, wipes Clyde's tears away with his thumb. He tells Clyde that he's doing good and that everything will be okay. He leans down and kisses Clyde, trying to distract him from the pain. Craig leaves a trail of love bites along Clyde's neck and strokes him with a steady hand. Eventually Clyde gives the okay and Craig begins to move.

Clyde bites into his lip to keep from crying out as more tears threaten to leak out. He just has to bear through this; Craig will make it better, right? He'll make it feel good, and then Clyde will be okay again.

Sure enough, Craig collides with that spot inside him again, and now Clyde wants to cry for a completely different reason. He clutches to Craig's back and utters a simple, "More!" into his ear.

Craig obeys and picks up his pace, making sure to be conscious of Clyde's hot spot. They begin to rock together in a delicious rhythm, making the couch actually begin to creak with the strain of their bodies on it.

Craig keeps his mouth shut as much as possible to keep himself from saying something stupid. He's not exactly a "clean" lover, and he doesn't think Clyde would appreciate that very much. He's trying really hard not to be too rough, too, but it's hard to restrain himself. He doesn't want to hurt Clyde, as much as others might argue that point.

Clyde is making all kinds of small, almost feminine noises. He thinks he should be embarrassed by them, but can't make himself care. All he can care about is holy shit, this feels amazing. If he'd known how good this felt, he would have fucked Craig a long time ago.

Their movements become more desperate and Craig can feel his self restraint wearing away by the millisecond. Clyde shouts that he's almost there, and Craig agrees with a grunted, "Me too." They finish not seconds apart from each other, collapsing and nearly falling off the couch. Craig ties off the soiled rubber and drops it somewhere.

They lay there silently for what feels like forever. It's not an uncomfortable silence, more of a content one. Clyde laughs, and he isn't sure why. He just laughs and every fiber of his body seems to agree with him. Craig laughs too, but not quite as fully. Craig gets sleepy after sex, so he doesn't really have the energy to laugh.

Then Clyde says, "Hey! How come I'm naked and you're not? You're the one with the nice body; how is this fair?" Craig just chuckles again and wraps his arms around Clyde's chest.

"Shut up and go to sleep, Clyde," he says, kicking off his already half off jeans. He pulls Clyde's forgotten comforter over them and tries to drift to sleep.

When he finds he can't, he sighs and sits up. "I can't sleep on your chest, Clyde, I feel like a girl. Switch me spots," he says.

Clyde actually barks with laughter at that. "You're such a dick; you can't even let me have just this one?"

Craig shakes his head and demands a switch in positions again. They shift around and eventually get comfortable again. Just before they nod off, Clyde says, "Thanks, Craig. It means a lot that you came over today."

Craig scoffs. "Don't get all faggy on my now, jeez."

Clyde smiles and nuzzles his head further into Craig's chest. "Good night, then," he offers.

"'Night."

**Author's Note:**

> yall, as old as this is, from fucking 2012, i loved writing this


End file.
